


Silence of the Heart

by TheMadScribe



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Fuck Cannon, Gay, Gen, M/M, Magic, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Trans Character, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadScribe/pseuds/TheMadScribe
Summary: I take Gotham and make it so fucking gay, also there's magic.





	1. Sass and Snickerdoodles

             The Gilded Rose was a middle class brothel known for pretty girls, pretty boys, and just enough class that you felt like you were getting a whole lot more for your money. It was presided over by Richard and Gabriel O’Connell, known in polite society as the owners of the Lush & Luscious bakery. It was a good cover for keeping their less legal activities a secret-- after all, who suspects a baker to run a brothel? 

             As bakeries go, Lush & Luscious was one glamorous bitch. Wood and gold accents paired with pastel decor and warm lighting created an ambiance wholly unusual to Gotham, of somewhere genuinely safe. Quaint and quiet, with gentle instrumentals playing, stepping through the doorway was like entering a portal to another dimension. Some of the more superstitious folk would whisper things their grandmothers had told them about staying out of the clutches of the Fey, but come for their indulgences all the same. Richard would greet them with a smile, keen ears picking up the somewhat disgruntled murmurings. He was flattered, truly. It was the best way he’d ever been compared to a fairy. Gabriel would usually handle that lot, his gentle brogue and golden-red scruff putting them at ease. Richard remembered the one time that a woman who seemed truly pixie-led wandered in seeking warmth. Rain made her curly hair stick flat to her head as she trembled lightly, scowling at the raging rain and muttering to herself in something that sounded like heavily accented German. She’d tearfully shown him an old picture of her son, asking if he’d seen him recently. The man in the picture was the fucking Penguin, although Richard had never seen him in person. He talked her into staying as he closed up shop, offering her some of the leftover pastries from the days sales. She demurred until he mentioned that he’d just have to toss them out, and sensibility won out over pride. Suitably warm and with a stomach full of artfully iced cake, she’d proclaimed him a good boy and faced the storm once more. Batty but brave. Richard hoped that she made it home safe, and found her son.  
Back in the current time, a particularly well-dressed gentleman smiled at Richard as he strode confidently into the shop.

             “Ah, Mr. Van Dahl! Wonderfull to see you again, you look hale and hearty once more. Could I tempt you with a lemon-raspberry cupcake, the literal fruits of my gardening?” Greeted Richard, happy to see one of his favorite customers.

             “A tempting offer indeed, my dear Richard! But how many times must I remind you to call me Elijah?” The elderly gentleman chided the young man, a playful quirk to his lips.

             “Once per meeting, as per usual. Should I get ready to box you a baker's dozen? You’ve got that certain gleam in your eye that tells me a party’s coming up.”

             “How astute of you! Give me… oh, just throw something in a box! I’m far too excited to choose and I know you have good taste.” Richard prepared a box of sweets, looking up occasionally as Elijah continued talking. “I plan to have a bit of a celebration once Grace and the children return, it appears that I had a son I knew nothing about until recently. To think, my poor Oswald, all alone after his mother's passing! I’m so glad that I found him yesterday.”

             “Os-oswald Cobblepot? The Oswald Cobblepot?”

             “You know my son?”

             “I know of him, he used to be the kingpin of the mob before being sent to Arkham. He was released but hasn’t re-appeared yet, I figured that either he was biding his time or got whacked- pardon my rough language.” Richard paused and looked over Elijah as he elected to sink into one of the plush chairs available.“One thing’s for certain, he dresses like you.”

             “Dresses like me?”

             “Yes, he’s always dressed to the nines wherever he goes. Not just a suit and tie, I mean his pocket square matches his socks and he probably wears suspenders. You’ve seriously never heard of him?”  
             “No, I haven’t…” Elijah stared dumbstruck into the distance, trying to reconcile the sweet and docile young man waiting for him back home with the image of a mobster. It didn’t work.  
             “You wanna step in back for a few minutes? We can chill in the side room, I know this must be unsettling for you.”

             “I’m not unsettled.” Elijah shot back stubbornly, even as he wobbled to his feet.

             “Elijah, you’re a gentleman but a tragically transparent liar who’s currently staring into the eighth dimension. I’m pretty sure that’s where Cthulhu lives. Come back to the human realm and have some tea with me. Joan can look after the shop.” Richard gently took the reigning Van Dahl by the elbow, gesturing for a teenage employee to take the front of the shop.

             “I’m sure you say that to all the men, you rascal.” Elijah joked, a bit of humor returning to him. Now teasing, Richard could work with.”

             “Oh absolutely, I have a multitude of torrid affairs over a cup of tea. Pants off before it cools, like strip poker but everybody wins.” Richard waggled his eyebrows in a distinctly dramatic fashion.  
             “Well, now doesn’t that take me back.” The elder stated with a smile, settling into a familiar chair by a small flower-painted table bearing a mismatched tea service. It did much better to represent the real Richard, king of his gilded scrapheap.

             They spoke at length over cups of honeyed green tea, Richard filling in Elijah about the criminal exploits of his newfound son, and Elijah telling Richard of his life since last they’d spoke. Elijah took to the information like a sponge, the initial shock having worn off, and catalogued every scrap of information he could get about his son. It became obvious that something terrible must have happened to him in Arkham to turn Oswald from a vicious kingpin to the simpering waif he’s encountered. Nausea coiled low in his gut, and Elijah knew that it wasn’t just a symptom of his new heart medication. Richard made all the right noises as Elijah spoke, peppering in pieces of advice, as per usual. When asked where this medical knowledge came from, Richard would always deadpan that he was a witch. Ah, well, he was a clever lad and no doubt amused himself with any number of pursuits, holistic medicine included. A blood test did seem like a good idea, however. Just to make sure that he was uptaking his medication properly. When Richard eventually waved Elijah goodbye, watching the gentleman enjoy the leisurely walk back to his house with a Lush & Luscious emblazoned bag at his side, neither man had any idea the havok a simple blood test would wreak. Heads would, quite literally, roll.


	2. Broken Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How for the love of teakettles do I indent in HTML? ATM i'm using a tedious system of many spaces.

         Oswald Cobblepot was a changed man. Sane, normal, kind. Truly, fate had dealt him a kind hand in his rehabilitation, and the subsequent finding of his father! He swore to himself that he would be a good son, and follow in the footsteps of the elder Van Dahl. Oh, should he change his name? He wanted to please his father, but the thought of leaving behind his mothers surname panged at his heart. Any sort of hyphenation was too unwieldy to consider, the options clunky and tongue-twisting. Besides, what sort of legacy would he be if he cut up his parents names to suit himself? No, he’d.. He couldn’t… that wasn’t normal… Father! He would talk to Father, and no doubt he would advise Oswald in the correct course of action. That was sensible. That was normal, in fact, seeking advice from ones Father in a distressing situation. Good. Good, good, good, that was right, was correct. Oswald puttered around his room, looking at all the furnishings that were already in it. Father said that they were his. His! Imagine! They’d gone shopping earlier, getting him new clothes that Father had promised to teach him how to tailor-fit. The machine washable garments had already been washed and dried, and he took great pride in putting them away in the - _his!_ \- dresser. He ached all over from giving the room a needed dust and mop, but Oswald was determined to take good care of the things his Father had so graciously bestowed upon him. Such kindness brought him to tears as he finally laid down in bed, not knowing what else to do while Father was out getting what he’d called ‘the best zut pastries in Gotham- pardon my french’. He’d gently requested that Oswald stay at home, as he was still easily overwhelmed. Oswald was glad, if a little lonely for his father's comforting presence. He drifted off easily, exhausted from his cleaning spree. Oswald was just about to dream when he heard his name being shouted, snapping back into wakefulness. Oh no! Father wanted him and he was keeping him waiting! He wrenched his aching body from bed, hurrying out of the - _his!_ \- room to go and greet his father.

          “Whoa, my boy, no need to rush!” Exclaimed Elijah as he watched Oswald skitter down the stairs like a spider on a hot plate. “How do you like your room? You can change any of the furnishings you like, just say the word.”

          “Oh no no no, Father! My room is perfect! I’ve already cleaned it and put my clothes away!” Oswald said hurriedly, the fact that the - _his!_ \- bedspread was the most horrid shade of faded puce he’d ever seen quelled by his overwhelming need to be a good son. He was being housed, clothed, and fed- what right did he to complain? 

         “You must be exhausted! These pastries will most certainly keep until morning, I won’t keep you from your rest.” 

         “I’m alright, it didn’t take too long, and i’ve had a nap. I- there was actually something I was hoping to talk to you about, if that would be ok?”

         “Of course, let’s go sit in the parlor.” Elijah smiled at his son, gesturing towards the aforementioned parlor. The two men got settled in, the elder bringing out the pastel box of fresh pastries. “I’m certain that there’s probably something here you’ll like, the O’Connells are geniuses when it comes to baking. Perhaps i’ll invite them over when you’re all settled in. Now, what did you want to talk about, my dear boy?” 

         “I was- well, maybe.. I just, I, do you want me to change my name? I don’t know if I should take your last name or keep mothers, and I don’t want to disappoint you, but I don’t want to disrespect her memory, and I don’t know what to do!” 

         “Fuck these.” Elijah uncharacteristically swore, setting the box aside and turning to embrace his son, “Oswald, you don’t need to take my name for me to know you’re my son. Keep your mother’s name if you like it, I wouldn’t ask you to change for me.” Oswald shook in his father’s arms, and Elijah had that same nauseous feeling in his stomach as the sweetness of his sons apparent desire to please turned sour. His poor Oswald indeed. He’ll have to work on gently coaxing the boy back to his actual self, heal the damage dealt to his sons psyche. Oswald’s stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, prompting an amused chuckle from Elijah and stuttered apologies from Oswald. “No, no, you needn’t apologize, I imagine you haven’t even had lunch yet! What sort of father would I be to allow you to go hungry? Have a seat, I’m sure that Helga has something delicious prepared.” He continued to gently coax his son to the dining room table, letting Oswald carry the box of pastries but refusing his offer of helping to set the table for a late lunch, on the grounds that Oswald was his son, not a servant. When they stepped into the dining room, Elijah saw that the table was set and Helga was most of the way through setting out a delicious lunch. She was silently thinking about how good it would be if the missus and her hellspawns never came back, and things could go back to the way they were with Mr. Van Dahl retaining full control of his household. His genuine fairness and generous pay had earned him the loyalty of most of the household staff, despite his unfortunate marriage to satan's daughter. This new person he brought home unnerved her, but he seemed to share Mr. Van Dahls kindly nature. Time would tell if that kindness remained when not under the watchful eye of the master of the house. Oswald ate obediently under Elijah's encouragement, his appetite oddly suppressed recently. He worried about remembering to eat enough- passing out from hunger would surely distress his father. Maybe he should take to wearing a watch? Tying a string around his finger would raise questions about what he wanted to remember, and he didn’t want father to worry. No! Was that deceitful? 

         “When Grace and the children arrive, i’m afraid they’re rather fond of strict meal times, but never be afraid to grab a snack out of the pantry whenever the fancy strikes you. I wouldn’t want you to think it was disallowed.” Elijah supplied, somehow knowing exactly what was worrying Oswald. The former kingpin didn’t know that his repressed ability to lie included his face becoming extremely easy to read. His conditioned naivete instead forced him to believe that his father was simply that well suited to knowing him. It gave him an odd and hollow sort of peace, in the icy realm above his genuine feelings. Elijah finished his meal, setting his plate and cutlery aside before untying the butterscotch-colored ribbon from around the Lush & Luscious box with a feeling of deep anticipation. He pulled out the lemon raspberry cupcake, offering it to Oswald who took it gratefully. It was one of the best cupcakes Oswald had ever eaten. Both men sat in silence a while, sampling the available pastries. “You must be tired, why not finish your nap? There’s nothing else that needs tending to today, at least not until Grace and the children arrive. I can send someone to wake you when it’s time to get dressed for dinner.” Elijah said, and Oswald sweetly agreed before going back to his room. He was asleep almost as soon as he laid down, having pushed himself further than would be advisable. Elijah sat around a while, still worrying over his newly discovered sons condition. He’d have to work to protect him from Graces machinations. Elijah was under no illusions about what Grace married him for, but he’d found as the years wound on having somebody else in his house was preferable to rattling around like an old lampshade that needed dusting. So long as he made it clear that Oswald wouldn’t be made his heir, Grace should content herself with passive aggressive remarks. Sasha was just as cunning as her mother, but unlikely to try anything without Graces go-ahead. Charles was the kindest of the three, although years of hardship had caused him to form a thick protective shell primarily composed of smirks and hauteur. Back and forth his thoughts tumbled as he sat beside the fire, box of pastries forgotten in his lap. The arrangement of people was always something that Elijah had a bit of a knack for. Should everything balance correctly, there should be no need for any excessive malice within his family.


	3. Grace is a Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly recaps of important cannon-events to keep y'all appraised of the situation without being too wordy.

         “A toast. You have welcomed Oswald into our family with open arms and open hearts. And for that, I am truly blessed.”  
         “To family. You guys have made me the happiest man on the planet. I am so grateful. I love you all.”  
         “To family.” said Grace.  
         “To family.” echoed Oswald.  
         “To family.” Purred Sasha. Charles drank in silence while Sasha pressed a small kiss to Oswald’s cheek, flustering him greatly. She and Grace both looked away when they couldn’t hide the disgust in their faces. 

          “Yes, many ghosts.”

          “But you are my only true blood relative.” The glass shattered in Sasha’s vice grip, shards clinking against the porcelain.  
         “Oh dear, are you alright?”  
         “Clumsy girl.”  
         “To family.” Glasses clinked. “And don’t worry my dears, Oswald here isn’t about to cheat you out of your inheritance.”  
         “To family.” Grace sighed, still contemplating how much of a danger Oswald was, yet somewhat relieved that Elijah didn’t plan to alter his will.

          “No, that’s my great-grandfather Manfred. He started a small tailor shop many, any years ago. Made suits for the cities elite. My father became an apprentice like every son before him.”  
         “You were an apprentice too?”  
         “I was. Had rather a flair for it… but it was not to be. When my father succumbed to illness, my mother held me close to her. Home-schooled me. She felt a need to protect me from the temptations of the city.” 

          “It’s time for your medicine, my love.”

          “They’re for my condition.”  
         “Your heart?”  
         “I have a hole in it. It keeps getting bigger, apparently. I think my demons are feeding on it.”  
         “You have demons?”  
         “Sadly… you too, I fear.”  
         “There’s so much I haven’t told you. So much that i’m ashamed of. I was a criminal. I’ve done…. Horrible things… Hurt people, manipulated, lied… for power, for revenge. I’ve killed people, father.”  
         “Our lives together started the moment I met you at the cemetery. Nothing before that concerns me. I forgive you for all your past transgressions. Be free of them, and live here in peace.”

          “To be fair.. I’ve never raped anybody.”  
         “Oh, well that’s a mercy, now isn’t it?”  
         “My son told me about his past. He just didn’t tell me how famous he was. You’re too modest, son.”

          “What’s plan B?”  
         “You are, my dear.”

         “Restrain yourself, woman! I am practically your brother!”

          “He didn’t bite.”  
         “Should I try?”  
         “No! I don’t think he’s faking, I think he’s kind of simple.”  
         “Huh.”


	4. Chapter 4

          Elijah made a phone call to his doctor when he knew for certain that Grace was out and the children were occupied with their own diversions. He thought it was a splendid idea, and the next morning the dapper man left early to get some bloodwork done, telling everybody that he wanted to stop by the museum to look at a new textile exhibit. He promised to pick up something along the way, and was off. To be fair, he did go see that exhibit after getting his blood drawn and swinging by Lush & Luscious for a danish. Richard plied him with some decaffeinated tea, seeming to know almost supernaturally what he needed. That or his weariness was apparent. He was back at the Van Dahl estate for a late lunch, when the phone rang. Oswald was the one to pick up, nervously responding before telling his father it was for him. He hovered while Elijah spoke with Dr. Whatshernuts, blue eyes anxious. The older man exhaled slowly. Well. This required his immediate attention, but first to soothe his son.  
          “Father, a-are you alright? The doctor seemed quite worried…”  
          “Come here, my boy… Don’t listen to doctors, son. I’ve proved them wrong so many times i’ve lost count. You and I will have many more years to spend together. Trust me.” Elijah spoke, and Oswald did. That is, the conditioning in control did. The real Oswald was deep down. He knew that Grace was a manipulative gold-digger, Sasha was a spoiled brat, and Charles had been groomed to not use his brain and let mommy dearest have control. He’d seen that fake pill, recognized it for the lie it was. Wanted to trust the man who appeared to be his father, but knew better. Saw he was a kindred spirit, darkness lurking beneath those kind eyes. Oswald was trapped, trapped in the mein of an idiotic, stuttering buffoon. The rage grew.  
          “Now, I have some business to conduct today. Do you have all you need to entertain yourself?”  
          “Oh yes, of course father!”  
          “Good, good! And don’t you worry, my boy, everything will right as rain in no time, you’ll see.” The lies and half-truths served as good kindling for the fire inside of Oswald. It stoked the coals and fanned the flames. 

         “That vermin has to go.”  
          “But how do we convince him? He likes it here.”  
          “How do you get rid of rats?”

          Elijah was out when the other Van Dahls had this fateful conversation, finalizing the changes to his will. Grace got nothing. Sasha and Charles would receive a small sum, and Oswald got the bulk of everything. His estate. The fortune. The kitchen sink. Elijah sank into the back seat as his driver pointed them towards home. He was exhausted. So much had happened in the past few days, and there was more to come. Elijah was about to divorce Grace. He only hoped that he could protect Oswald from as much of the inevitable fall out as possible. He could forgive Grace for many things, but switching his medication with a placebo? Now that was too far. Perhaps he should press charges as well. Grace would not fare well behind bars. Elijah couldn’t quite tell if that thought pleased him or not.  
          “Father, I’m so glad you’re home!” Greeted Oswald enthusiastically. “Grace was really nervous about you being out by yourself!”  
          “Now Oswald, I was merely interested in when my husband would be coming home. Hello, dear, did you have a nice jaunt?”  
          “Quite pleasant indeed.”  
          “How lovely. Well, I think i’ll leave you two alone now. Sasha and I have an appointment for manicures at that new salon, it’s supposed to be simply heavenly.”  
          Grace stalked away, mind whirring about how she could subtly poison Oswald and not rouse Elijah’s suspicion. Perhaps it would be better to do away with the old geezer, leaving malleable little Oswald to be disposed of after an appropriate period. Her prospects would be secure.  
Charles crept into the room, hoping that Grace was already far enough away she wouldn’t hear him.  
          “Father, Oswald, there’s something I need to tell you.” Charles said, guilt writ across his face as his stomach roiled.  
          “What’s wrong, Charles? Are you alright?” Elijah questioned, looking over his younger son. Had something happened to him? He looked on the verge of tears. Charles sat next to Elijah on the couch, no longer trusting his knees.  
          “It’s mother, she… she wants to kill you and Oswald. Sasha is in on it too and I am, I mean, they think I am! I don’t want to be a part of this anymore!” Three things happened simultaneously: Oswald started twitching, Elijah hugged Charles, and Charles lost the fight with his own tear ducts. “I knew she only married you for the money, but I didn’t think she’d do the rest of it, honest! I only just learned that she’s been replacing your heart medication, but apparently it’s not working fast enough for her and she’s scared of Oswald getting everything and we’ll get nothing and end up on the streets but I- I can’t just help her kill you!” Elijah made soft, comforting noises whilst Charles blubbered and Oswald turned deeper and more livid shades of red. He looked just about fit to burst, and he was.  
          “I know.” Oswald and Charles were startled by Elijah’s admission. “I’d learned she’s replacing my pills, but I wasn’t aware she’d stepped up to first degree murder. Or that Sasha was involved. Thank you for telling me this, Charles.”  
          “And you… you’re not mad?”  
          “At you? Of course not, dear boy.”  
         “How long?” Hissed Oswald, whom Elijah noted had the arms of his chair in a white-knuckled grip.  
         “How long… what?” Charles was puzzled, still sniffling.  
         “How long has Grace been withholding vital medication from our father while you sAT BY AND LET HER DO IT?!” Oswald lurched to his feet, a murderous glint in his eye, meekness entirely forgotten. The Penguin was at large once more, and the Van Dahl men were in for one hell of a show as the once and future King of Gotham raged. “For precisely how long did you sit on your lavishly fed ass and allow your own mother to slowly chip away at the one man who’s ever shown you so much of a scrap of unfettered kindness? Weeks? Years? hOW LONG, exactly, have you been such a absolute coward, Charles?” He upended the nearby wooden table, sending the decanter of brandy to crash to the floor, glass shattering and alcohol dissipating into the air as a stain wove itself into a rather exquisite carpet. Charles flinched at the sudden motion, beginning to cling to Elijah. “HOW LONG?!”  
         “OSWALD.” Roared Elijah, who was quite done with this untowards display, thank you very much. “That will be quite enough of that!”  
         “Quite enough of what, father? Can’t handle me when i’m not scraping and bowing, the picture of a meek little mouse? I didn’t know so little would upset you!”  
         “Charles, go to your room. Now.”  
         “No, Charles, stay! I’m not done talking with you.”  
         Charles Van Dahl glanced between the two men, terrified, before deciding to side with his father and scurrying away to hide in his bedroom. It didn’t lock from the inside, so he used all of his admittedly little strength to move his solid wood dresser in front of it. He wasn’t coming out until he knew things were safe.  
Back downstairs, Elijah and Oswald stared each other down before entering into a shouting match for the ages. It lasted for an hour, leaving both men panting and a little hoarse. Elijah felt quite fatigued. Oswald felt better than he had since he’d entered Arkham. He also worried, now that the red haze of rage had begun to wane, that he had irreparably damaged his relationship with his last blood relative.  
         “Well,” Sighed Elijah as he plopped himself back down. “That was certainly a bout for the ages. Would you like to go out for some tea? I know a shop that serves the best jasmine green tea i’ve ever tasted.”  
Oswald stared at his father, stared through his father stared into outer fucking space because how could this man be that calm and composed after he witnessed him have what could gently be termed a nervous breakdown?  
         “You… you seem awfully…”  
         “Unruffled? I am not. I do, however, look it.”  
Oswald opened his mouth, then closed it again. Although usually skilled at banter and smoothing things over, he was currently out of practice.  
         “So. Tea?”


	5. Introducing Richard

         It was in this manner that Oswald Cobblepot was expertly persuaded to join messrs. Elijah and Charles Van Dahl at Lush & Luscious Bakery, after a stern warning not to traumatize Charles further. The pastel decorations startled Oswald, as well as the warm lighting and aura of peace. It was nearly the antithesis of the Gotham he knew and loved, making him feel calm yet ill at ease. Or perhaps that was merely the after-effect of his recent reawakening.  
         “Richard! Your boyfriend is here!” A man with golden-red hair called to the back of the shop. He smiled familiarly at Elijah, eyes flickering over the two young men he’d brought to the shop.  
         “Which one?” Came a voice from the back, which was soon revealed to be a slightly short man with a pretty face and wavy brown hair. His mouth split into a grin when he caught sight of Elijah. “Back so soon, lover?”  
         “Couldn’t stay away.” This was spoken through soft laughter. Charles and Oswald were both horrified at the implications, and it showed on their faces. Richard walked up to Elijah, grabbing onto his arms gently and assessing him.  
         “You look like shit. Rough day?” He led them over to a private booth, tucked into a corner and hidden behind a screen. “Gentlemen, I don’t believe i’ve seen you in my little bakery before. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Richard O’Connell, and I co-own Lush & Luscious with Gabriel, who you saw coming in.”  
         “Oswald Cobblepot.”  
         “Charles Van Dahl.”  
         “The O’Connells are simply delightful at their craft.” Elijah praised, to which Richard donned a playfully demure expression. “Richard, my dear, if you could be so kind as to bring out a pot of jasmine green tea? You always make it better.”  
         “Oh yes, that would be the practice that the children simply haven’t gotten yet.” Richard remarked before walking away. Oswald knew with absolute certainty that this man was gay. Charles had no clue.  
         “He’s not really your boyfriend, is he?” Charles asked, wide-eyed.  
         “Oh please, that boy?” Elijah scoffed, “If i’m going to have a boyfriend, he wouldn’t be young enough to be my son, for starters. Richard is far too young and energetic for me, he’d leave me in the dust.”  
         Charles was gobsmacked. Oswald was intensely uncomfortable with this topic of conversation, yet hid it behind a bland smile. Richard returned with a pot of tea, four cups, and a smattering of pastries.  
         “Shall I be mother?” He gestured at the pot after seating himself comfortably between Charles and Elijah. After receiving a nod from the latter, he served out equal portions of tea. “I’ve missed out on family gossip and I demand to be brought up to speed. So spill.” This was said with a playful nudge in Elijah’s direction.  
         “I’m divorcing Grace.”  
         “Hallelujah! Drinks on the house.”  
         “Oh that isn’t necessary, i’m quite able to pay for my own tea!”  
         “Elijah, you’ll have to let me treat you one of these days.”  
         “Your company is treat enough.”  
         “Flattery will not dissuade me. I’ll have to start leaving cupcakes in your mailbox.”  
         “You wouldn’t dare… Ok, you would. You shouldn’t, but you would.”  
         “Exactly how do you know my father?” Oswald spoke up, curious about this strange man who bantered so easily.  
         “Oh, Elijah has been coming in since we opened our doors. We got to talking one day and haven’t stopped since. It’s what I imagine a sassy uncle would be like.”  
         “You don’t have any uncles?” Asked Charles.  
         “I have uncles, they’re just not that sassy and i’m somewhat… estranged from my family.”  
“Oh. I’m sorry.”  
         “No need,” Richard waved off the comment, “I was far too queer for them anyways, there was no way they could handle me.”  
         “So, you’re, um?” Stammered out Charles, blushing yet curious.  
         “I’m gay, i’m surprised you didn’t notice. I’m also transgender, which i’d be surprised if you noticed.” Charles nodded minutely at Richard, trying to process this information with only the barest knowledge of what transgender means. Oswald watched the expressions play across Richards face as he sipped at his tea, finding the moment he pegged Charles as both gay and repressed. It was something Oswald had realized, in retrospect.  
         The tea and pastries were delicious. Elijah paid the full bill, however Richard extracted from him a promise to call in the next few days with an update about the family situation.

         “Hello, Jim.”  
         “Hands up. Hands up!”  
         “Ok, look.” Barbra put her green-gloved hands up “Better?”  
         “Inside. Keep them up, face the wall… What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Arkham.”  
         “And you’re supposed to be in Blackgate.”  
         “They cleared my name. I’ll ask you again, what are you doing here?”  
         “I was released. Call them, you’ll see. I’m telling the truth, it’s what I do now.”  
         “That’s hard to believe.”  
         “Which part?”  
         “I swear to God, after the day i’ve had, I have no problems shooting you.”  
         “Ok, look, I believe you… But when I came out of the coma, the memories I had were… horrifying. Like waking up from a nightmare. The person who did those things, that’s not me.”  
         “So they released you? Just like that?”  
         “Oh, not right away, I mean, I had some issues to work through. Obviously. But yes, i’m better Jim. I’m totally sane. I really am.”  
         “I’m happy for you. Please, go.”  
         “You don’t believe me, do you?”  
         “Frankly, I don’t care.”  
         “What, and that’s it?”  
         “I have work to do.”

         “You’ve been at it all night, Master Bruce. I think you ought to get some food down your neck.” Alfred stated as he walked into the Wayne Manor Man Cave.  
         “Do I smell sausage?” Lucius Fox asked.  
         “Chipolatas. I have a full English upstairs.” Said Alfred.  
         “I have no idea if that’s a yes, but I am starving! Let’s eat.” Luscious rose from the chair.


	6. Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish

          Jim Gordon, free from Blackgate but not from his guilt over the Wayne Murders, took to the streets to take out his aggression on the hitmen of Gotham. Made a nice justification for the brass knuckles. His objective? The Lady. Unfortunately, he must have failed History class, as he didn’t notice the blatant mythological reference of a club named The Artemis. It still failed to sink in when the bouncer was a woman. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily… (depends on your point of view) Barbara was there to help him. Sapphic undertones abounded. 

           
Bruce and Alfred learned about Pinewood Farms from the lips of Karen Jennings, and got taken into police custody for the trouble. 50s diner meet-ups happened. Victor Fries was sent out on a little field trip, courtesy of a special suit. Karen Jennings died. Barbara wandered back to Tabitha. All was fucky in Gotham.

          All was fucky at the Van Dahl Estate as Elijah prepared to serve Grace the divorce papers, before removing her from his dwelling. By force, if necessary. A few gunmen, all acquaintances of Oswald, lay in wait. Charles hid in his room, feeling once more like a child. He knew the screaming would start any minute.  
          “Elijah, my love, exactly who are these men?” Grace asked, nose wrinkled in distaste. She eyed the guns that none of them were bothering to conceal. “I was unaware that we required any bodyguards, is something the matter?” Elijah sighed as he looked up at the woman he had married.  
          “Grace, if you would be so good as to call Sasha in? There’s something i’d like to tell you two.”   
          “You wanted me?” Sasha asked cooly as she slid into the room. Despite her casual affectations, Elijah knew she had been snooping. He held the manilla envelope containing the proper paperwork out to Grace, which she took in hand.  
          “Elijah?”  
         “Grace, i’m finished with you. Sasha, you and your mother have a half-hour to pack your important things and get out of my house. These gentlemen will accompany you to ensure that no acts of vandalism occur in the meantime.”

         Charles huddled under a blanket, hands over his ears as he heard Grace shrieking. It was all very familiar to him, but no more bearable for being well acquainted with it. The sounds of their screaming always caused his heart to pound, a nervous tremor starting in his muscles. An irrationally large fear overtook Charles as he hid in the back of his closet, familiar and soft blanket wrapped around him. The boy stayed in the closet for a long, long while.  
         “Mister Charles? Dinner is prepared. Your father and brother await you.” The maid called from the other side of his door, before going off to attend to her duties. The evening’s entertainment had been great fun for her. To think that Mr. Van Dahl had finally sent the hellbeast packing! The bitch in training was also gone, which just left Charles. Hopefully, he would become less of an ass when solely under his father’s influence.   
         The Van Dahl men ate in relative silence, an awkwardness settled over them. Elijah felt oddly light, for a man who just served his duplicitous wife divorce papers before kicking her and their daughter out of his house. Oswald was ill at ease around his father and brother, both of whom his previous self had trusted implicitly, the conditioned dolt. He yearned for familial affection, yet was reluctant to initiate it or open his heart to trust. Charles still had a ringing in his ears from Grace’s screaming, and was feeling oddly numbed out. It had been quite a day for all of them, and the younger men both retired soon after dessert. Charles did it with giving Elijah a hug, as was their custom. Oswald did not. Elijah sat a few minutes longer, looking into the fire, before picking up the admittedly dated phone and dialing a number he had long since memorized.  
         “Richard, I have so much to talk to you about.” He said in lieu of a greeting.  
         “One moment, dear, let me get settled.” Richard replied, grabbing his flask and quickly burrowing into his bed. “Alright, let’s hear it. I have a Feywilde and i’m ready for whatever you can throw at me.”  
         “Grace was replacing my medication with a placebo, then she was planning to kill me, I’ve changed my will to reflect my current good graces, and i’m honestly considering that I might be pleased if she goes to jail and manages to get herself shanked.” Silence rang on the other side of the line.  
         “Mother of fuck. Elijah.” Richard was glad he was seated comfortably, or he would definitely be on the floor. “How’d you fit all of that into one sentence?”  
         “Much practice.”  
         “Ok, so let’s unpack this. Replacing the medication? The bitch. Plotting to murder you? That Bitch! Dying in prison? Well, she is a gold-digging asshat. It’s better than you slipping some arsenic in the sugar bowl, or committing her to an asylum like the old days. Violence has a home in the human heart, and it’s best to acknowledge it instead of repress it. So tell me, how are you feeling?” Elijah was quiet, but Richard gave him time to think, and more importantly, to feel.  
         “Worn. Disappointed. Hopeful. Perhaps a bit maudlin.”  
         “All of that makes perfect sense, and I don’t want you to try and ignore any of it. Wounds need tending, or they’ll get infected, and you can’t apply neosporin to the human heart. Well, you can, but it doesn’t help much.” That startled a bit of laughter out of Elijah, and Richard smiled. Good, he could use a few laughs.  
         “You have quite the morbid sense of humour, young man.”  
         “Hey, who’s the one that laughed at it? You must be rubbing off on me.” Elijah hummed into the receiver, allowing Richard to dictate the course of the conversation. “So, how are your boys doing? Charles looked shell-shocked, and Oswald was not half so meek as you described him.”  
         “Well, about that… Oswald got himself worked up into a bit of a state and started shouting, which Charles is somewhat sensitive to. It was like a flip had switched, and all of a sudden Oswald is acting differently. Less differential and trusting. Honestly, i’m glad about that first bit. He had absolutely no spine when I first met him.”  
         “It sounds like they did a real number on him in Arkham, and whatever conditioning they’d used… broke. He’s got a reputation for having a temper, that probably worked in his favor. Let anger fester and it’s quite a force.”   
         “Don’t I know it.” Scoffed Elijah, Grace’s and Sasha’s rage from earlier filling his mind.   
         “You should keep an eye on Charles, boys aren’t taught how to deal with their own emotions and he might try to bottle it all up. He honestly seemed a bid dissociative in the shop, is he normally a space cadet?”  
         “He’s a bit ditzy, sure, but not usually that much.” Silence. “Alright my lad, I can hear you thinking. Out with it.”  
         “This is just an idea that i’m toying with, mind you, and it might turn out to be nothing, but… are you sure that Grace wasn’t abusive towards her children?”  
         “Of course she wasn’t. She was just- Oh.” Elijah felt a sickly cold sense of dread sweet over him as several things suddenly clicked into place. “Oh, dear.” Of all the things not to notice, under his own roof, to the children he had taken on as his own. Or maybe just Charles? Sasha clung to her mother like a limpet.  
         “Ok, i’m hearing self-admonishment and I absolutely forbid it. It’s hard to see, especially when it’s right in front of you and being done by a woman.”  
         “How did you know?”  
         “The way Charles was, he… He reminded me of my Clyde, back in the beginning. Same look in the eye, same eagerness to please, same startling at unexpected things.”  
         “I’m sorry.” Elijah said softly, knowing the other man was in pain too. “I know it must hurt to be reminded of him.”  
         “It does, but it’s hardly your fault, is it? Besides, i’m glad I learned what I did from him. He was a clever little bastard.”  
         “Indeed.” Agreed Elijah before he lapsed into silence, out of words for the time being.  
         “Goodnight, Elijah. May your moon be high, your dreams be soft, and your sleep be full.”  
         “Goodnight, my dear.” Click. “Jesus tittyfucking Christ, what a day.”  
         Everybody in the manor slept fitfully that night.


End file.
